


Pygmalion

by YumeArashi



Category: Assassin's Creed
Genre: Alternate Universe - Greek Mythology, Fantasy, Kink Meme, M/M, obssession
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-14
Updated: 2013-03-14
Packaged: 2017-12-05 06:06:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,508
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/719740
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/YumeArashi/pseuds/YumeArashi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Finding humanity lacking, an artist pursues perfection in his work.  The Pygmalion myth, by way of Assassin's Creed.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pygmalion

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by kink meme prompt: http://forkinsocket.livejournal.com/16841.html?thread=1899209#t1899209
> 
> Information on the Pygmalion myth: http://www.mythencyclopedia.com/Pr-Sa/Pygmalion.html
> 
> cosi bello - so beautiful

Leonardo had always known that he was a perfectionist.  He demanded it in everything he did; not merely his own work, but other aspects of his life, and it could make things difficult.  Relationships, for example, he had long since discarded.  Women held neither attraction nor interest for him, and even men frustrated him.  Men could at least be beautiful, but their beauty was never perfect - to say nothing of their minds, which seemed vain, shallow, and self-centered in proportion to their good looks.

After yet another disappointment, the artist decided to carve a statue instead.  This would be one whose beauty would be absolute, a statue of a man who would be, in Leonardo’s mind, the perfect lover.  Was he mad, he wondered as he ordered the materials for what would be his greatest work.  Perhaps he was, and yet when he looked at the people around him, he could only conclude that this was the sole way to realize his dreams.

 

* * *

  
The face was the first part to emerge from the marble block, and Leonardo was dismayed to find that the otherwise excellent marble had a small flaw in it.  And of course this was not in a part of the marble that was being chipped away, but in the most obvious place possible.  Right across the full lips, it was as though an ugly scar marred that exquisite mouth.  Leonardo was about to have it hauled away and a new block brought, when something made him pause and look again.  He had wanted this statue to be utterly free of flaws; indeed, that was the entire point of the project.  But this…it looked right, somehow.  The one imperfection that would highlight the otherwise faultless beauty.  He patted the statue’s cheek.  “Mi dispiace, Ezio,” he murmured, deciding to name him.  “Of course I’ll keep you.”

 

* * *

 

Talking to the statue quickly became a habit.  Leonardo would murmur to ‘Ezio’ as he sculpted the long hair, the perfect shell of an ear, the graceful curve of the neck.  “What do you think, Ezio?   Should I make your hair a little longer, or is it just right as it is?”  “I suppose you would not be the type to wear an earring, si?”

Even when working on other projects, late into the night and alone at his workbench, Leonardo would keep up an intermittent commentary, telling Ezio about his current projects, his difficulties with impatient patrons, (“Really, how unreasonable, I am only three months late getting started!”) or his ideals for the world.  He found himself wishing Ezio could answer back - Ezio would be the quiet type, Leonardo was sure, but he would chime in occasionally with questions or opinions of his own.  Leonardo thought about what Ezio’s half of the discussion might consist of, and was soon carrying on one-sided conversations.

“The stray cat in the yard had her kittens today.  I wish you could see them.  They are so tiny and precious, little miracles of life.”

Silence greeted him.

“I know, you are not particularly fond of cats - you prefer dogs, si?”

Little sounds of whispering wind outside the workshop’s shuttered windows.

“Ah, yes, because dogs are loyal and biddable.  Well, to each his own.”

By the fire, tiny cries as one of the kittens awoke, hungry.

Leonardo was careful to do this only when he could be sure no one would overhear.  There were rumors enough about his sanity as it was.

 

* * *

 

Ezio’s body took shape slowly.  The more things progressed, the more slowly and carefully Leonardo worked.  There was no question of discarding Ezio now, so the artist could not afford any mistakes.  Chiseled collarbones emerged from the shapeless stone,  broad shoulders, powerful back, muscular chest, lean stomach.  Strong arms with rough hands, capable and sturdy.

By this time, Leonardo had developed a complete personality for Ezio - temperament, opinions, morals, all the quirks and traits and qualities of character that a real person would have.  Ezio was, he’d decided, not only beautiful but attentive, thoughtful, skilled, and just the slightest bit mischievous.  The artist held his one-sided conversations with Ezio daily now, and even in mute stone, found him a better companion than most living people he knew.  He had even taken to brushing a soft kiss against the stone lips each night as he went to bed.  Other called him insane, obsessed, and he ignored them.  If this was the only way he could have his perfect companion, then so be it.  Better this than to settle for disappointment in reality.

 

* * *

 

 

Leonardo spent a long time over Ezio’s manhood, determined that this especially, Ezio’s essence, should be excellence itself.    When he was finished, he sat back and looked over his work with a critical eye.  A piece of art, he decided, satisfied.  Long and thick, it draped gracefully over full orbs below.  Unexpectedly, he found himself blushing, and went to retrieve a piece of cloth to wrap around Ezio’s waist.  “Apologies, caro,” he murmured, brushing a hand softly down the cold marble cheek, “I could not bear to create you covered in garments of stone.  But I at least will allow no one else to see you.”

 

* * *

 

Sculpted hips were next to emerge, lean buttocks and legs corded with wiry muscle, and then only the feet were left.  Leonardo worked through the entire night, unable to rest when he was so close to bring done.  He could hear birdsong beginning outside his windows as he slowly stood, his body aching from being stooped over so long.  He removed the robe he usually kept on Ezio to protect his modesty, surveying his masterpiece in the gentle dawn light.  Ezio was every bit as beautiful as he’d hoped, flawless in every way save for the ‘scar’ gracing his lips. 

“Ezio,” he whispered, awed.  “You’re perfect, così bello.  I…” his voice broke off as he realized that in creating a life for Ezio - his memories, his dreams, his personality - he’d fallen in love.  And whatever others said about his sanity, Leonardo knew in his heart that Ezio was not real.  Would never be real.  This, all of this, was merely Leonardo’s longing for what he could never have.  Wrapping his arms around the unfeeling marble, he wept for his impossible lover.

 

* * *

 

Leonardo’s first thought upon waking was, _I fell asleep?_   His second thought was, _I don’t remember going to bed_.  And his third was simply, _Wait, who…_

“Good morning, caro.”  The voice was rich and deep, contented almost to the point of being a sensual purr.  Leonardo’s eyes flew open - and he stared.

He had finally gone mad, he must have.  There was no other possible explanation for Ezio being in his bed, no longer cold stone but warm, living flesh.

The former statue smiled - dio, that really was a scar on his lips! - and leaned in to softly kiss the artist.  “You fell asleep downstairs.  It looked uncomfortable, so I brought you upstairs and put you to bed.”

“But….but _how_?” Leonardo managed, the question strangled.

Ezio gently brushed a lock of sandy hair away from the artist’s forehead, his expression shifting from smiling to serious.  “You gave me life, Leonardo.  Any artist can carve a statue, but you, you gave me not only a form but also a mind.  You dreamt up a whole life for me - a name, a past, a personality.  You talked to me.  You let me speak to you in return.  You cared about me.  You fell in love,” he leaned down for another kiss, “you cried for me.  Your tears on my skin broke the last bonds of stone that held me.”

“I…” Leonardo’s voice trailed off.  He remembered now, just on the edge of sleep, feeling the marble warm beneath his skin.  He had thought it simply his own reflected body heat, and the arms that came around him merely a trick of sleep.  “What will you do now?” he asked, rather lamely.

“I was created to love you,” Ezio said softly, pulling Leonardo against his chest.

Leonardo frowned even as he relaxed instinctively in the warm embrace.  “That hardly seems fair to you.”

“You speak as though I love against my will,” Ezio chuckled.  “When you named me, I began to wake.  When you spoke to me, I could hear.  When you looked at me as a man and not as a piece of stone, I could see.  When you touched me for no other reason than to bridge the space between us, I could feel.  I have spent many months with you, and all that time I was falling in love also.  How could I feel otherwise about a man who took a block of cold marble and created a life from it?”

Ezio kissed Leonardo again, and this time he did not protest.  The joy in Ezio’s face told him the words were no lie.  This might still be madness, he concluded, feeling answering joy take wing in his own heart as he returned the kiss.  But if it was, then he suffered it gladly.


End file.
